


The Couch to Bed Experiment

by awishturnedwell



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Caring, Drabble, Drinking, F/M, not good at tags yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 11:36:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17182229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awishturnedwell/pseuds/awishturnedwell
Summary: When you know you've passed out drunk one place, but always wake up in another, don't you have a duty to figure out what's going on?  Soul Eater Evans sure thinks so.





	The Couch to Bed Experiment

**Author's Note:**

> This terrible little thing inspired by one of those “don’t imagine your otp doing [blank]” text posts. Please keep in mind I have not proofread this at all.

The first time Soul woke up hungover in his bed he wasn’t entirely sure that he’d fallen asleep on the couch. He’d been watching some documentary or something on the nature channel after drinking a little too much while Maka was having her girl’s night.

It wasn’t his fault that sitting home alone was depressing. And the drinking kept him from sending more than five or ten text messages. Although he wasn’t sure how many he sent after he started to feel the buzz.

But none of this explained why he was in his bed when he was fairly certain he’d crashed on the couch.

After a week he convinced himself that he must have stumbled to bed too drunk to remember.

The second time it happened Soul knew he’d passed out on the couch because his pants, jacket, and boots were still draped all over it the next morning. Maka woke him up screaming with a vindictive look on her face. She knew he’d be hungover and she was punishing him, he was sure of it.

Maybe she had talked his mostly passed out butt into walking to his room. But then why wouldn’t she have moved his clothes or mentioned it the next day.

Soul just couldn’t figure it out.

The third time was less than a week after Soul had to carry Maka to her bed. She’d been out for the monthly girl’s night getting absolutely smashed for once. Normally she barely got buzzed, but Soul could tell she was really going hard by the increasingly hilarious texts she sent him.

He decided that maybe she was drinking enough for the both of them and just popped in his favorite movie. It didn’t help much. He still spent most of the night compulsively checking his phone for her messages.

When she finally got home around 3am she was giggling. Soul stood to take her purse and support her while she took off her shoes. Unfortunately, she couldn’t seem to straighten out after leaning down.

Soul gave a long-suffering sigh that was 95% feigned and scooped her up to take her to bed. The scooping was a little harder than he’d expected and carrying her down the hall was even harder. She was tiny, but she was all muscle and she kept kind of wiggling. Now he remembered why he usually carried her piggy-back.

So when he came back from another night of having shots shoved down his throat by Star and passed out face down on the couch, he wasn’t at all surprised to wake up the next morning in his own bed in his boxers and t-shirt. He was even pretty sure of what had happened.

He was pretty sure he was right when Maka couldn’t quite look him in the eye the next morning. She seemed completely normal in every other way, but it was still a tell. So he put it out as a shot in the dark.

“Maka.” Her head whipped towards him. "I thought I fell asleep on the couch last night.“

Maka snorted, "You did. I had to practically frog-march you into your room.”

“What about my pants?” Soul wondered if she would even dignify this with an answer.

She scoffed, “You wouldn’t go to bed without taking them off. Kept whining about them.”

Soul thought she could have pulled it off if she could just look at him when she talked. Instead she was pushing her eggs around on her plate.

Soul slowly started developing a plan.

Soul had casually mentioned to Star that a new bar opened up. He was careful not to show interest. Less than a week later it was all Star was talking about and Soul was being dragged there later that night.

Before they left, he told Kidd that he really had to watch how much he drank because Maka was starting to worry about him. Kidd immediately turned Shinigami and asked about their resonance. Soul laughed and told him it wasn’t that bad, he just needed to cut back on his drinking.

So Kidd politely offered to take the majority of the shots. They wouldn’t affect him anyway.

That night when Soul finally convinced Star to let him go, he was practically sober.

He still stumbled through the door and slammed it loudly behind him. Then he went straight to the couch and dive-bombed it face down. Now he just had to wait.

Thirty minutes later he was starting to wonder about his plan. He’d had just enough drinks to make him tired and passing out for real was becoming more and more appealing.

Just as he started to let his mind drift he heard the creak of the floorboards in the hallway. He closed his eyes and tried to make his whole body go limp. Belatedly he tried adding some snoring, but stopped that when he heard Maka pause.

She must have stood over him for a minute debating. He wondered if he should shift or something.

Just as he told himself he was going to move, he felt her hands on him. Next thing he knew he was being forcefully rolled over onto his back on the couch.

He forgot how strong she was until she did things like this.

Soul almost hoped he was wrong about what came next, but there it was! He was being carried bridal style to his bedroom.

He was laid down surprisinly gently on his bed.

Then he heard her footsteps receding and thought that must be it.

Until she came back and started undoing his belt. Soul gulped noisily and started reciting his times tables to keep himself calm. Luckily, she didn’t seem to notice. Maybe the sound of his belt buckle coming undone was too loud.

She eased the belt off like she had a lot of practice and he felt a brief twinge of jealousy. Was she practicing that? On who?

Then all thoughts flew out of his head as she yanked his pants off in one fluid motion.

As she walked out the door he could hear her muttering, “always complaining… button presses into him… crybaby weapon…”

Soul wanted to be insulted, but he was too flabbergasted by the whole experience.

Two weeks later Soul was making the same deal with Kidd. Time to change things up a bit.

This time he was even more prepared and completely sober. He waited with his heart racing for her fingers to curl under sides to flip him over.

When they did he almost jumped and ruined the whole thing. His plan depended on him holding off just a little longer.

Finally her arms were firmly wrapped around him and she was almost to his room. Using as much stealth and speed as he could, Soul wrapped his arms around his meister and nuzzled his face against her cheek and neck. "Mm.. Mak-“

Next thing he knew she had squeaked and his butt had painfully hit the floor. The bone was actually pretty numb and his lower limbs were too stunned by the fall for him to get back up.

"Soul?!”

“Owww… why’d you drop me?” He put on his best puppy-dog eyes. He knew when a shit storm was brewing.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were awake?”

She wasn’t hitting him yet. Soul wasn’t sure why. But he decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. He took his opportunity and explained about how he’d just been curious about how he was getting to bed and he had a theory and was just testing it and shouldn’t she be happy he was using scientific method?

Maka couldn’t seem to get her mouth working properly. She kept opening her mouth as if to talk, then closing it to let him continue to ramble on. Eventually he noticed she was blushing.

Right when he was starting to run out of excuses, she stepped forward and held out a hand. He flinched before realizing she was offering him a hand up.

Since his legs seemed to have gotten their feeling back, he took it and pulled himself up.

She didn’t seem ready to explain herself; she just slung his arm over her shoulder and walked him to bed.

After she made sure he was in bed, she turned to leave. The light was off and she was almost out the door when he pulled out the phrase he’d been planning all along.

“And thanks for always taking my pants off.”


End file.
